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Sunday, December 16, 2012

Hey you! Porkchop! C'mere!

You, look good enough to eat, my friend
And I actually don't mean anything figurative
I mean that you look like food

A walking talking red licorice vine man
That's what I see when I look at you
The kind with the ridges
Because that's what I prefer

Never, ever, the smooth ones
Those are for barbarians
Whereas the Twizzler kind
That's for swanky sophisticates like me

Keep on walking red vine guy
I love to watch you come and go
Just step up the pace a bit
Or I may have to take you down and have a taste

Oh, but now comes something more substantial
A mashed potato woman
With ribeye steaks for legs
Buttered pea pods for arms
And a roasted carrot as a head

I can't stop drooling
I must look quite the creep
Staring like a starving man
Drool running down my chin
Over the sight of this poor woman

I couldn't tell you what she really looked like
Her race, color, or creed
All that I'm able to see
Is that she is mighty tasty and fills my need

"Get in my belly!"
I shout at the woman meal
Who scurries away on her meat legs
Looking back with concern
In her cooked carrot face

I miss more meals that way